


It's Elim Garak, Isn't It?

by Durani



Series: Star Trek Bingo 2020 [3]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But how can Bashir be evil, Cardassia, Cardassians, Cardassians with tails, Dark, Darkfic, Garak has a tail, He can't be evil, He's Julian Bashir, M/M, Prison, Section 31 (Star Trek), Some of really want evil Bashir, Thanks to Section 31, Well this is my take on how to make him "evil"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26220994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Durani/pseuds/Durani
Summary: Cardassia Prime has fallen and Elim Garak along with her. But it seems that the universe has different plans with him. The universe and the dark-skinned boy who tries to be an interrogator.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Series: Star Trek Bingo 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904293
Comments: 9
Kudos: 16
Collections: Star Trek Bingo Summer 2020





	It's Elim Garak, Isn't It?

**Author's Note:**

> I really like the image of Julian Bashir becoming the head of Section 31 and being one of the scariest people in the galaxy, but that wouldn't really be our Julian, would it? There are of course ways and this is mine. Enjoy.

Cardassia Prime has fallen. There weren’t happy children in the streets the last time Garak had seen them. Instead, there were armored Starfleet troops searching the city, looking for people like him.

And they had found him, he didn’t manage to flee the city in the weeks prior, when the Federation was still fighting. He had different things he had to do and that became his downfall, which both he and Mila had foretold.

They found him quite soon, even looking especially for him, they dragged him away from his childhood home, where he managed to destroy as many Tain’s documents as he could, while telling Mila to remain calm and no harm would be done.

What was with Mila now anyway? Was she dead? Was she in a prison, just like him? Did the Starfleet let her be, hoping to promote a good image?

Garak didn’t know and he didn’t like that. Not knowing. He had been a prisoner for more than a week, if he guessed right, and a lot of things could have changed in a week.

His whole body was tired, he didn’t get much to eat or drink, and there they say that Starfleet takes care of its prisoners.

Of all things, no one told Garak what would happen to him. No one took him for interrogation. No one asked him a damn thing. He was just there, in that cell, dark and small, creeping closer and closer taking away his air.

He managed to get himself under control every time he woke up and felt like suffocating. Every time the thoughts would overwhelm him.

If he would be a mere prisoner, they would probably put him in a cell with other Cardassians, or at least in a hall with other Cardassians. Not here, where it was quiet and abandoned and Garak was sure it must have been one of the buildings formerly owned by the Obsidian Order. With its thick walls and small cells.

The guard just showed up at regular intervals in order to give him food or take the plate away. He tried to strike a conversation without much success. Humans would just shake their heads and leave.

He was a prisoner they wanted alive, they even took the work with finding him in the ruins of the city, but what they wanted with him was a mystery to him. Maybe waiting until he cracks. They surely are not that naive, since they know he is an Obsidian Order agent.

But then why wait?

And then one night, in the middle of his sleep, they took him away, dragging him through corridors deprived of any other living being. Two big strong Humans, holding him firmly and not caring if Garak himself could walk or not.

Not a favourable position to be in, especially in his tired hungry state. On the other hand, something was happening. Something was different and Garak could finally find a bit more about his situation.

He ended up in a quite dull, most probably a meeting room with a lot of space around a huge long table and with windows showing the city as Garak had noticed. The Humans shoved him into a chair at one end of the table and left him there. After that they just disappeared.

Garak stopped and searched the room with his gaze, looking for anything.

It was empty, barren, with maybe one or two tables by the walls. Nothing else, no computer, no PADD, no interrogation instruments, he would have expected. 

They made him wait, they wanted to see what he would do. Well lucky for them, Garak decided it would be best to do nothing and just wait. He was patient after all.

But he shouldn’t have looked outside the window. He shouldn’t have looked at the Cardassia City, still smoking in some places, with its destroyed buildings and empty streets being only visible thanks to an early Cardassian sun rising through the ruins.

It was a very sad sight.

One that tore his heart just a little, but in the way that felt like dying, for the first time he took it all in.

“I apologize for the waiting.”

The voice startled Garak, and he jumped just a little bit in his seat, hoping the other person didn’t notice.

The door whooshed closed and finally a tall dark man showed up near Garak, encircling his chair and scanning him from head to toe. He was throughout, Garak would say, looking for everything he could use against him, but too obvious too. And a bit too young.

“It’s Elim Garak, isn’t it?” the man asked and then he finally left Garak’s side. “Of course it is. May I introduce myself?”

“Yes… yes,” Garak answered trying to hide a surprised expression. He would have never acted like this. Noone Garak knew, would have acted like this in an interrogation, meaning only that this man is definitely new to this business. That played well into Garak's cards, but on the other hand, could cause many problems.

“My name is Julian Bashir, Human by birth obviously, but you must have guessed it,” Bashir smiled a bit, reminding Garak more of Cardassian children, than inquisitors.

“Thankfully my eyesight is still working as it should,” Garak said and watched Bashir as he put down few things on the table, far from Garak’s reach. A PADD and a paper file.

“I am sure it does, would be quite unfortunate if something happened to you,” Bashir continued and looked around quickly, as if he had never seen this room before. Strange. Not just new to being an inquisitor, but new to this building too. New to everything as it seemed.

“And why would that be?” Garak asked and tried to straighten up in his chair and laid his tail calmly next to him. He had years of experience in comparison to this kid. He could twist their positions if he desired, be the inquisitor again.

“Oh well… The Federation doesn’t like its prisoners dying. The Federation doesn’t like an awful lot of things, and that’s why I’m here,” the kid explained and looked at the smoking City, face away from Garak. 

“And what your role in this Federation… visit would be?”

“I guess the helping hand in rebuilding Cardassia. This used to be Cardassian City, didn’t it?” Garak looked out of the window at the ruins.

“Yes,” he let out quietly.

“What a shame. I have heard the oldest parts were hundreds of years old,” Bashir continued without a slightest hesitation.

“The Coranum sector is over five hundred years old.”

“Which one is that? I hadn’t had the time or resources to learn much about this place before I came,” Bashir explained and turned back to Garak. Eyes watching him, looking for the slightest movement of Garak’s muscles.

“You won’t be learning much now, after you have destroyed most of the City,” Garak said. He needed more, not just this small talk the human was obviously enjoying. And if he was so interested in Cardassia’s history, well then, good for him, Garak could trade these pieces information for other information, if he was careful.

“Well, the walls can be rebuilt. The Federation has good architects.”

“I doubt the Federation would send its best architects to rebuild destroyed Cardassian cities.”

“You doubt correctly. Especially if the inhabitants of Cardassia keep making it difficult for the Federation to help…”

“With what?”

“Everything,” Bashir said with a smile and moved back to where he left his things. “The agriculture, economics, the government. The Federation is trying to help.”

“The Federation is currently occupying Cardassia, destroying its agriculture, economy and if I remember correctly, you have eliminated a whole half of the Cardassian government the moment you step on this planet. Even sooner probably,” Garak said and watched Bashir as he closed his mouth and looked at the paper file with what might have been a sad smile, if he moved his lips.

“The Obsidian Order. The Cardassian intelligence service. You can imagine why the Federation would like to have them out of their way. They were quite successful, but only quite, you are living proof,” Bashir said and raised his head.

“How could I be when I am your prisoner?”

“You are alive and needed, that’s why. If the Federation got rid of all problems connected to the Obsidian Order, you wouldn’t have been here. You would probably be dead… or awaiting execution.”

“I thought the Federation doesn’t execute its prisoners,” Garak stated.

“The Federation doesn’t.”

“Nor does the Starfleet intelligence, if I remember correctly.”

“Not unless it’s inevitable.”

“Then, using logic and eliminating every unsuitable option, you don’t work for either of them. You said yourself, I would have been executed if you didn’t need me.”

Bashir shook his head and smiled a bit, sending shivers down Garak’s spine. There in front of Garak wasn’t a Federation official, nor Starfleet Intelligence agent. He was something Garak wasn’t sure he was and he didn’t like that. Obviously he was working for the Federation, but under who? Who in the Federation would resemble the Tal Shiar or the Obsidian Order in their ways but was hidden even from the Federation citizens themselves?

“You wouldn’t know them,” Bashir waved his hand.

“I know a lot of things, which is why I’m being held here. I might as well know who my captors are.”

“They are a special part of the Starfleet and Federation, working in secret, getting rid of things that might prove to be dangerous for the Federation’s survival. Section 31. Does it ring any bells?”

Garak thought for a little but then shook his head. There never has been any mentions of Section 31 in the files on Federation Garak has read. Starfleet Intelligence? Of course, they had so much information on them and their agents, but this shadowy unknown organization that has escaped even from the ever looking eyes of the Obsidian Order? This Section 31 had plans with Garak, plans Garak won’t probably like at all.

“Why would you tell me this?” Garak asked.

“An act of goodwill I guess,” Bashir shrugged. “First step in our cooperation.”

“Cooperation?”

“Well, you are alive, which means a lot of your former colleagues are also alive, probably planning something. And I need you to help me with them, finding them and getting rid of them,” Bashir smiled and crossed his legs, resting his joined hands on his knee.

“Why don't I believe that?” Garak asked.

“You will. It will be in the best interest of Cardassia. And yours.”

“Again, why don’t I believe that.”

Bashir just chuckled and stood up, coming closer to Garak and standing behind his chair leaving Garak no other option but to stare in front of himself and at the City in the morning light.

“You think that you are prepared to die for Cardassia, aren’t you? That there is nothing we can do to you. That the implant in the back of your neck will keep you safe.”

Garak frozen. The implant. Yes he planned on using it if necessary. He wasn’t even surprised that much that his inquisitor knew about it. He could have found out from just one throughout scan or from the Obsidian files, if there were any left. But the way he said it… 

Garak startled a bit, when Bashir’s hand landed on his elbow, slowly moving down to his own hand and taking it.

“Well I have news for you, my dear mister Garak,” Bashir didn’t as much say as he whispered and guided Garak’s hand towards his neck, resting it there and slowly moving his thumbs over a fresh scar. 

_ When did this happen? _ Garak thought and unintentionally drew his tail closer to his legs.

“The implant is not going to help you anymore. Our doctor managed to disable it without getting you killed. The scar is just a little reminder under what conditions they were able to do that. I would have done a far better job, I believe, maybe even get rid of it, but I wasn’t there at the time.”

Barhir’s fingers left his neck, leaving a freezing feeling running on Garak’s scales all the way down his back to the tip of his tail. Garak brushed his new scar a few more times, feeling it, reminding him that he had lost a layer of armor that he wanted to use against Bashir and his Federation.

“How?”

“Well, we managed to secure more of the Obsidian Order’s files, than you would think. Including yours. A rather peculiar way to keep records. On papers,” Bashir said and pushed the paper file in front of Garak. Garak slowly opened it and read through it briefly, only looking for details that would confirm what had Bashir said.

“And then it was just a question of time before we found the right files where the information about your implant was written. The operation, how it functions, all of that in great detail. Designing the termination was actually quite easy, I managed to send it a long time before I reached Cardassia. It was fun, if I may say,” Bashir smiled and Garak closed the file and pushed it back.

“So, you know about me, but you should now know that I won’t betray Cardassia and there’s nothing you could do about it,” Garak looked at Bashir who just shook his head.

“You won’t be betraying Cardassia, you will be saving her.”

“So you keep saying and I keep doubting that.”

Bashir smiled sadly, taking the file back and picking up the PADD looking for something. His eyes twitched a little bit when he found what he was looking for and then eyed Garak.

“Just two days ago, our… humanitarian teams were trying to help in Lakarian City, in one of the less destroyed parts. Mostly families with children, a lot of orphans according to logs. There were doctors patching the worst wounds, writing down names and administrating rations. There were quite a few people there, since the warehouses and the water systems were destroyed by Cardassian soldiers in the weeks prior. Such suffering.”

“Suffering mainly caused by your interference,” Garak pointed out the obvious, but Bashir shook his head.

“There were transports with more rations coming into Lakarian City. Two of them had reached the main square where most of the people found their temporary provisional homes in tents. Unfortunately, some of your colleagues thought that this would make a perfect target. They sabotaged the engines and the transports went down as they were trying to land. Killing dozens, injuring hundreds.” 

He handed Garak the PADD where Garak could see the photos of the square. One was taken before the incident, there were truly many people, most of them already bruised and in old clothes. Children were hugging their parents tightly and some were completely alone. Crying. 

The next photo was of the place after the incident. There were fires and smoke, bodies laying on the ground, bleeding, burned, around them chaos as people were trying to do something. Many of them needed immediate medical help, but Garak knew that help would never come. 

After that there were some photos of the victims. Men, women and children, all with burn wounds, lying lifelessly on the ground. Some of them had some rags on them, definitely an attempt to hide them so no one but the family could see them. 

Garak laid the PADD down and tried to look away, giving the dead the nonexistent privacy. He has seen such things, he has seen worse, done worse. But all of that was for the good of Cardassia and all of the bodies belonged to traitors who deserved no honor. But he still felt as if the imaginary walls of his past were coming closer. Thankfully he could still breathe without the kid noticing any change.

“The sabotage system used was of an Obsidian Order origin. They haven’t claimed anything, but then, they are mostly scattered all over Cardassian space, without much communication. But it happened. As have many other incidents, obviously done by Obsidian Order. Incidents hurting primarily Cardassians. It wasn’t the Federation who paid the highest prize. It was your people, mister Garak and I believe both you just as I would hate to see this continue.”

Garak didn’t do anything, he just stared in front of himself trying to process what he had just seen. The bodies, more of which would certainly come in the near future. The question was if he really could help his people somehow. And if he did try to help them by helping this Bashir kid, would he be really helping?

He couldn’t just give the Federation what it wanted. He couldn’t let them destroy Cardassia. But he couldn’t let his people suffer either. Not even if they were just faces he will likely never see again. They were his people, his Cardassia. He couldn’t just abandon them.

“You would give us information on the Obsidian Order, how it works and what the agents would probably do. Help us with the decoding of their messages and in return, I will make sure that the people of Cardassia get what they need,” Bashir said and Garak finally looked at him, his young face without any wrinkles, any scars. A face that looked nothing like the inquisitor's one. Why was he doing all of this? He should sit somewhere in a classroom and learn how to be a doctor or something. Not be locked here with Garak.

“And how could you make sure that this help will really come?” he asked and Bashir smiled.

“I will mention in my logs many times how helpful you have been and how thanks to your cooperation, many places have become more stable and safer for Federation and Starfleet personnel to actually do some work. You see, we cannot help if we are constantly under an attack. So Mister Garak. Will you help me save your homeworld?”

Before could Garak say anything they were rudely interrupted by a com telling Bashir that he’s needed somewhere else. The boy responded quickly and then sighed as he checked something on a smaller PADD he had hidden in his pocket.

This gave Garak at least some time to think. Agreeing to help the Federation felt like the worst possible option. But saying no might prove to be just as bad as saying yes. It wasn’t the battle of what the better option was. This was a hard game of deciding which of two evils was lesser. A game he might not even have a say what the result will be. It was sickening. 

“I am so sorry. They need me elsewhere and I haven’t got the faintest idea when we will talk again,” Bashir said and took both the PADD and the paper file. 

“It’s not like I could possibly run away,” Garak replied and against all odds, Bashir chuckled and shook his head.

“It truly is not very likely. Until next time, is there anything you would recommend me to do? Like what place should I visit, what book should I read? I know, I am not on a vacation or something, but since we will be working together I would like to get to know the Cardassian culture a bit closer.”

“So you could claim that you understand it better than its own people?” Garak bit, but then suddenly he felt terrible for doing so, as Bashir looked down with a very sad and guilty face. He  _ was  _ a kid, after all, doing this terrible job who knows why. He didn’t deserve Garak’s venom. Not yet. “I would start with The Never Ending Sacrifice. Without a doubt, the finest Cardassian novel ever written.”

“I will take your word for it and certainly give it a try,” Bashir smiled and moved towards Garak and the door behind his back. “Now good day to you, Mister Garak. I'm so glad to have made such an interesting new friend today.”

With that he walked past him and disappeared, leaving Garak once again alone and more confused than he was before.

**Author's Note:**

> We all know Julian doesn't want to be the bad guy, but what else can you do when Section 31 is breathing on your neck with a dagger in their hand?


End file.
